Abandon Hope All Ye That Enter + Euro 2008

The time, as the Walrus famously noted, has come to separate all things football from my other personal musings which all take place over at that other blog. This here blog will be solely devoted to football. Incredibly biased, myopic, foul mouthed and misdirected reportage of it in fact. Hopefully it will stimulate and provoke. For the most though, I'm sure there'll be some choice jokes about Ashley Cole and some ripping neologisms or new terms of insult for a player. Which is all we can really hope for in this kind of thing.

So onward and upward ...

EURO 2008 BEING TOTALLY AWESOME



Remember Euro 2004? No, I don't either as I was left dozing off at inopportune times throughout the tournament. Namely just ahead of kick-off. Frankly, they should have just let that barnstorming 3-2 between the Czech Republic and Holland be the final and be done with it. Because it was all seriously downhill from there. Except with Little Cristiano 'The Cron' Cronaldo crying lying the little bitch he is after Greece mugged a typically graceless Portugal in the final. Unless you had sufficient Greek and Portugese blood there was little to rouse the spirit and edify the soul in that tournament and it should all be best forgotten.

It's a good thing that most everyone involved in Euro 2008 had a little pow-wow beforehand and passed an executive decision to play interesting football. Greece, totally miffed that fielding 10 central defenders and a goalkeeper was on the out, had a little sulk, sent out 10 central defenders and a goalkeeper anyway and got hoiked in the first round. Even Sweden, whose starting midfield boasted a combined age more fitting of some dude from the book of Genesis, and seemed terminally incapable of bringing the ball all of ten yards from their defence, managed to slam a few past them.

Outside of those plodders it was all fun and games though. Portugal passed well only for a gardening implement dressed up in a wig and a hair-band to pass off as a striker (so as to devote more resources to Phil Scolari's attempt to assemble the most overly-elaborate midfield in the history of the game) to scuff the ball into a corner flag or for the Cron to produce 700 hundred step-overs and get tackled before glaring at everyone else. Or maybe he was casting death-glances to Sir Alex Salex Lord Wrigley of Salford Ferguson in the stands, and winking in semaphore to let him know that unless he sold him off to Real Madrid he'd continue to bottle every big game he plays in. Not that the rest of us will ever tell the difference. Holland once again performed their biannual trick of getting football journalists and neutrals everywhere to partake in a rather disturbing bout of collective premature ejaculation, twonking Italy 3-0 and France with a lazy 4-0, all of which was achieved with the kind of footballing porn the puritans who schmucked up Euro 2004 tried to have banned. Germany fell over each other, shoved the opposition a bit and got it all together for the odd moment which earned them a big black hat from everyone, although they got a big comedy gold star from this fair blog. Croatia went all Mighty Mouse for a week until a Turkey side that would be deemed clinically insane if it were a person dumped them out after Slaven Bilic had, erm, 'made love' to the pitch moments before. Spain thwacked Russia around with David Villa only having to look at a football for it to scuttle past a goalkeeper and into the net, then Russia, piqued into action, went ballistic and added yet another bunch of swashbuckling, cavalier, Corinthian ne'er-do-wells to what had emerged as a pretty good list of swashbuckling, cavalier, Conrinthian ne'er-do-wells.

In all, it was fitting that Spain should have won the tournament, and to have done so so convincingly and handsomely. In a tournament where attacking play was encouraged, and in particular attacking play that favoured swift movement and high technical proficiency, Spain best epitomised this ethos. Throughout they were sleek, using the ball intelligently and moving it quickly, with Villa and Torres buzzing around incessantly up front, pulling holes in opposition defences and capitalising on the passes Xavi, Iniesta and Silva were able to slide through said holes. While Villa got the most attention through his goals, Torres in particular gave masterclass after masterclass of leading the line, running willingly and intelligently to create space for his strike-partner and the midfielders pressing in behind him. He earned his goal in the final, when that initial surge of pace to catch up to what looked a comfortable Philip Lahm was ominous; the moment he got within a yard of him you knew it was all over.

That said, the tournament belonged to midfielders. Xavi led what was an exceptional Spanish midfield with quiet authority. Simple and unspectacular he outthought and outclassed every defence he came up against, with Silva and Iniesta providing able back-up and Marcos Senna doing the muscle-work in behind. They worked splendidly as a unit, something that sailed entirely over the heads of the English press who bayed for Cesc Fabregas' inclusion at every opportunity. Fabregas, it must be said, played well in his appearances as a substitute (and his start in Villa's absence in the final), however, his individual flair was deemed as something to be used sparingly by Luis Aragones, whereas the starting midfield was the bedrock upon which Fabregas could come on and capitalise on. Having won the whole show, Aragones' selections must surely be vindicated and Fabregas' time will definitely come.

Which brings us to the big implication of Spain's success - has this victory changed the Spanish mentality into a winning mentality, the kind that Germany are able to rustle up even when the quality of players is lacking? Throughout the tournament Spain looked composed and sure of themselves, the odd nervy moment against Italy notwithstanding. Spain possess the talent to build upon Euro 2008 and be very real contenders for the next World Cup. Indeed, they are probably the best team on the planet at the moment by a pretty comfortable margin, coupled with an exceptionally strong domestic league. But will the World Cup provide another mental hurdle? It is one thing to win the European Championships, coveted as it is. But will the ultimate prize raise those thorny questions of Spanish football again? I hope not: the style of their play, their professionalism and their will to win lit up Euro 2008 and endeared them to many. Indeed, it's the kind of football many of us wish to see played week-in and week-out by our clubs and national teams, so it is exciting and gratifying to see that brand of football succeed.

Which brings us to England's absence: given that Spain won with some elegance and swagger, and did so with grace and charm, the England circus was in many ways a welcome absence. Euro 2008 hewed largely to continental footballing virtues - namely footballers being professionals doing their jobs without any surrounding hoopla or soap opera. With the dishonorable exception of the Cron, the tournament was bereft of the vacant big-heads that so blight the Premier League and seem to distract the English national team from ever performing to their ability. No moronic statements from Wayne Rooney; no puzzling faffing about over David Beckham's inclusion/exclusion/haircut (Fabio Capello would do well to note Aragones' stubborn refusal to even countenance Raul); no bizarre roasting incident in some Vienesse brothel involving Rio Ferdinand; no WAGS; no incommensurate grief with the inevitable collapse against Germany on penalties; no blatantly jingoistic and racist tabloid palaver aimed at Germans. And yet, with all that said, there was something sadly missing come quarter-final time: Croatia's spectacular implosion on penalties just wasn't the same, given that it was prefaced with footballing wit and brio, rather than dogged but laboured plodding, huffing and puffing and punting-it-up-to-Crouchie. For all the crap that goes along with it, no other footballing nation quite does operatic disintegration quite like England (brilliantly ironic given England is the one European nation whose character is as far from operatic as could be). But then again, if we were to have that, we'd have missed out on the likes of true footballing talents like Modric and Arshavin, which is, after all, why the game is so good to watch and is as compelling as it is from the outset.

However, with the Premier League kick-off a mere month-and-a-half away, all the wailing and gnashing of teeth will be sure to return in all its glory, and Spain's giddy triumph will fade into a glowing memory. Drat.